


The Frailty of the Body

by YesBothWays



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, no dead lesbian tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:01:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6165031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesBothWays/pseuds/YesBothWays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Begins with the love scene in 3.07 and does not take a nose dive into soap opera tragedy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fires Entwine

            Clarke was leaving, returning to her own people to try to restore some balance among their broken and distorted leadership. Her life was not her own entirely; she had a heart for her friends still. Lexa had thought before that perhaps Clarke's weakness and frailty had kept in her Polis even so long as this, and as a Commander she had even hoped that her service as an Ambassador might awaken the leader she once knew in Clarke. But she had also hoped, simply as a woman, that she would stay. The reality of her own felt sense of loss weighed on Lexa like a physical burden as they spoke. Lexa held her hand out to Clarke.

            "May we meet again," Lexa said.

            Her reverence for what little she knew of the Sky People's ways felt poised upon that single phrase. As she spoke them, she felt as if a flame in her heart flickered and threatened to die away and that, with these words, she cupped that fragile flame and breathed life into it. She willed it not to die, even if it would. Perhaps a will could reveal itself most strongly in so tiny a gesture as this, she felt, in a language that moved not over crowds and through strong systems of politic but as softly and intimately as the breath shared around a kiss.

            Lexa noticed the distinct weakness in her grip that had been trained all her life to hold a sword and withstand heavy blows against its blade. Dwelling on an awareness of her weakness, she felt Clarke grasp her arm with a strength that almost astonished her in contrast. And then Clarke was drawing her forward, stepping in close, and kissing her. The feelings elicited by the feel of Clarke's mouth against her own, the touch shockingly tender, contrasted sharply with a frailty in her body that ached like a deep exhaustion that had come upon her quite suddenly. Her mind was trained to fear this exhaustion more than pain, her fight was wearing out. The pain in Clarke's expression revealed itself vividly, and Lexa nearly froze at being allowed to see.

            But Clarke was holding her closer, harder, and was kissing her once more. Their bodies had come together at the hips, as if they had tipped forward and fallen into one another at the slightest provocation. As if drawing out a memory kept deep and locked away over these past years, Lexa found herself flooded with the feeling of her own desire being satisfied, and it felt a near terror. Facing intense pain had never made her feel fear this deeply, the way facing experiences of intense pleasure brought her up against so much deeply ingrained fear, and she had found her way through this long ago with Costia. Her own bravery seemed to respond with the wordless intuition borne of great mastery to the situation. A familiar fire awoke within her chest, and her hands on Clarke's hair became strong once more. A grief that defined her utterly and a strong sense of her own distinct self, timeless and set apart from any influence or training, came along with it.   She pulled Clarke near and kissed her with deepening passion, and she did not shy away from the feeling when her own body trembled and her breath came in a gasp that made her aware that she was weeping.

            Even as she was being overcome, Lexa felt Clarke sitting her down on her own bed and considering her. They looked at one another openly for a long moment. Their shared passion became a clear choice. Clarke had drawn the clothing away from Lexa's shoulders and looked over her naked shoulders. She drew Clarke down over her and lay back. She felt her hands touching the tender skin of her throat, and her body wanted to flare out in resistance rather than allowing anyone's hands to come to her neck undefended. She held Clarke's wrist and kept herself steady. Then Clarke's mouth was moving over her throat and rival flames were brought to contend inside of her. Her passion won out, and she felt the very first sound escape her lips, a sound of desire and pleasure the cut down into the depths of her being.

            Clarke's hands upon her throat and chest trembled noticeably at the sound. She leaned up to see Lexa's expression and took Lexa's face in her hands to kiss her. Clark was working her shirt up, to touch her skin, Lexa thought. She did not quite know why Clarke wanted to touch all of her, but she responded without much of a thought. She found herself being stripped of her shirt, and her arms came to her chest reflexively. Clarke saw this and touched her hand. She pushed herself up and stood before Lexa again. She had taken off her own shirt, before Lexa could sit up and draw near to her again.

            She witnessed in astonishment as Clarke undressed herself in the light that came through the lattice of the windows. Clarke's body lacked any ink-work, and still the absence of any ornamentation could not hide her history of holding power or engaging in warfare. She was marked by scars, and Lexa tried to read the history written in them. Clarke took both of Lexa's hands and brought them to touch her own body. She leaned down to kiss Lexa and ran her hands over her back as she did. Lexa felt an energy run up her spine that made her skin prick. She shivered, and Clarke pressed her shoulder to get her to move back into the bed. She drew Clarke with her as she did and found their skin touching as Clarke kissed her hard enough to press her down into the softness of the bed.

            She could feel Clarke's bare legs against the fabric over her own. When Clarke ran her hands from Lexa's breasts, where her touch made Lexa gasp, down to the edge of her pants, Lexa helped her to take them away. She found herself overcome, as Clarke entangled her body in Lexa's own. They kissed, and she felt that the heat from their bodies and their shared passion consumed any awareness of distance between the two of them. The ecstasy of total engulfment took over Lexa's mind. There was nothing else except this all-encompassing, present moment. Everything she was came to a focal point in bed with Clarke, making it clear only now that she usually lived divided and hidden even without any such intent. In Clarke's arms, she was one entity, so distinctly finite, and yet also clearly embraced by all infinity.

            They both found that they could come together easily. Whatever resonance was there between them, whatever intricacy and nuance they had built up from watching one another so closely in the days past revealed itself now in the total absorption they felt along with a grace in how their bodies were able to touch. Lexa felt Clarke's thigh between her legs, and she kept her mouth pressed close to Clarke's shoulder when they did not kiss to soften the sounds that she made. They were for her and seemed to pour into her. When Clarke moved lower and found her way over Lexa's body, touching her with her mouth, Lexa held onto her shoulders, touched her face and her hair, and willed herself to breath into the experience. Her back arched until her hair fell down onto Clarke, as Clarke's mouth on her body brought to an experience of profound pleasure that made her gasp and gathered all of her into one, singular experience.

            Clarke came back to kiss her at once, and even though Lexa's body was still trembling, a new fire of passion made its way through her in a rush. She took Clarke into her arms and laid her down. She moved over Clarke's body with what felt to her like a fury of passion, even though her touch came gentle and steady as she intended it. She focused more, as she found Clarke was still silent. She tried different ways to touch her, and Clarke grasped her arms and shoulders.

            Lexa finally stopped and leaned back to look at Clarke's expression. Clarke practically shook herself and became suddenly sobered. She brought her hand to Lexa's neck and held her almost hard.

            "Help me find what you like," Lexa said.

            "Are you kidding?" Clarke managed to say.

            "You haven't made a sound," Lexa said and looked closely at her face.

            "I'm just quiet," Clarke said.

            Clarke's brows furrowed as she tried to understand what Lexa meant entirely.

            "You reveal your body but not your voice?" Lexa said to try and understand.

            Clarke laughed once and grew a bit self-conscious. She felt too safe with Lexa to be thrown much, and her own body felt charged with a passion could not be easily disrupted. Lexa was taken aback but not put off by her response.

            "All Sky People are this same way. We grew up close together in a crowded space. I like everything you're doing. More than like," Clarke said and touched Lexa's face.

            "How will I distinguish what I should be doing if I can't follow the sound?" Lexa asked her and blinked.

            She looked over Clarke's body and placed her hand on her stomach. She focused on the trembling she could feel there. She seemed to be studying Clarke closely, trying to learn a new literacy of some kind.

            "I guess you just sort of feel your way through," Clarke tried to explain.

            "Okay," Lexa said and leaned in to begin kissing her once more.

            She focused now on Clarke's hands against her body, the way she arched her back, when her breath would either catch or deepen. She learned to lean back and look at her. It was easy this way, far simpler than reading the signs of intent in the armored body of another warrior. She brought Clarke to an extreme, and as she pulled her into a kiss, she felt Clarke's voice break in a moan. Clarke tried to allow herself to make sound after this, and Lexa found herself coaxing the moans and cries from her with more of a sense of determined focus than she imagined was possible in such an intimate experience as this. They were usually not the places where one experienced one's purest acts of will. But this was not usually. Not in any way.

            Clarke's voice had a rasp in it as she came up into a height of pleasure in Lexa's arms. She trembled afterwards, as the tension in body slowly released. They kissed deeply for so long that Lexa forgot everything else except the feel of it. She lay down beside Clarke afterwards and closed her eyes. She felt awash in the experience and knew that the sensations would soon begin to fade away. She wanted to remember, so she focused on the feeling, every aspect of this in her body and mind. She turned finally to see Clarke.  
            "Are you hurt?" Lexa asked as she reached to touch tears she found on Clarke's face.

            "No," Clarke said with a swift shake of her head. "I'm just overwhelmed."

            Lexa lay back in silence. Her own thoughts were coming back to her. Clarke was watching her expression.

            "Are you thinking about Costia?" Clarke asked her tenderly.

            "I am. I'm sorry, " Lexa said.

            "Don't be sorry," Clarke said.

            Clarke reached over to touch her hand.

            "I wish I had been with her this way," Lexa said.

            "Weren't the two of you lovers?"

            "We were. But our people have different ways. We never undress one another or openly reveal ourselves to one another in this way. There are times when I'm afraid that I'm forgetting what she looked like. I don't have an image of her all complete in my mind in this way."

            She looked over Clarke's body and reached to run her hand along the line of her side and hip.

            "I see her in armor, painted for war. The way we were together when we were alone, the memories are more of sound. They're dim even so vivid as they still feel."

            Lexa looked over Clarke's body longer. She was trying to remember. She hoped desperately that she would not forget. No matter the passing of years or the pain of her fight. Clarke must have read this in her face. She leaned up and dragged Lexa into a passionate kiss.

            "This is not the end, between us," Clarke said to her.

            Lexa leaned into her shoulder in silence. She looked closely at Clarke's face. She could read so much that Clarke had kept hidden before. She let herself see how deeply Clarke shared a sense of longing with her, a longing for them to be together and find out who they might become under one another's influence, what they might make together. She leaned in to kiss her and felt her chest shake with a halted breath like woman who had been weeping.


	2. The Keeper of the Flame

            Clarke stayed. Lexa stared at Clarke as she came into her room. She had talked things through with Octavia. She did not tell Lexa right away what they had said.

            "Indra is going with her," Clarke told her, giving her a mild shock.

            She came and kissed Lexa immediately.

            "Titus isn't going to like this," Clarke said when they finally stopped kissing.

            "If you're right, then we won't have long to wait until he changes his mind. The blockade should heat things up for Pike," Lexa said.

            "It will. I have some other ideas in mind, as well. Come with me."

            "Where?"

            "To Arkadia."

            Titus entered. Clarke shared a look with Lexa and left the room. Titus had real news. He had gathered together information from all their sources. Several of the other clan leaders were enraged. None would consider facing Lexa in an open challenge, but they were horrified that she had allowed her people to become victims, sacrifices. If they had died in combat, it would have been different. But they died in defense of Arkadia.   In their minds, they were being called again to the service of the Sky People. They would have given their lives for Lexa willingly in battle, but to be placed in service was the utmost offense. And Titus feared most of all that Lexa would lose her sense of danger, her vigilance in her own, personal defense.

            Lexa held onto her mastery and did not lose her temper. She tried to assuage Titus's doubts. Whether he came to see her side or not, he relinquished. He left seeming both defeated and resolute. She asked him to call a counsel together tomorrow. He did not even acknowledge her request. Perhaps he was right, and she would reach a bad end. Anything was possible. Commanders were changeful, like the moon, and the darkness of their absences distinct but brief, like eclipses. She had been taught to see herself burning brightly in war, in vanquishing the enemies of her people. The power of any flame might lessen its duration, but the sharpest light would be remembered. She had decided that their enemy was war, the waste of life, and the worship of death. Her duty would be to craft dignity for her people not merely in their deaths but in their lives. That would be her legacy. The nightbloods who followed her were reared on her philosophy, treated with respect. Rather than being taught that they should fear one another and contend for mastery, she had taught them all that they were worthy. They were growing up differently than she had, and they showing incredibly mastery in arts of war. She wondered what would become of them in her absence.

            Clarke made her way down the long hall of guards and came to Lexa's room that evening. They ate a large dinner. They had never spent so many peaceful hours together at once. Lexa found herself almost shy, even though she felt comfortable with Clarke.

            She sprang to her feet when she heard her doors open. She sighed, expecting Titus. He might bring some new. Three of her own warriors came into the room. No one ever came into Lexa's private rooms, except Titus and those she invited.

            "I didn't summon you," Lexa said.

            She saw their hands were on their weapons. She and the largest man sprang towards one another at once. They were locked in combat before he had time to draw his sword. The other two drew their swords in an instant.

            "Lexa!" Clarke yelled.

            She rushed to a table and grabbed a pot and threw it into one of the men's face. She grabbed a candlestick and rushed towards the fray. Lexa had already gotten control of the sword in the largest man's arm and stabbed the other. In the time Clarke's vase bought her, she killed him, as well. She turned and struck the other down.

            Clarke froze in the middle of the floor. Three movements, distinct and elegant, that was all she had seen Lexa make. She stood with a bloody sword in her hand, bristling with energy, and seemed to want someone else to fight. She glared over at someone, and Clarke turned to see who and readied herself to fight.

            Titus was standing inside the doorway. He had his hands folded behind his back like a tutor overseeing students. Clarke turned back to Lexa, confused, and wondered if Lexa would kill him her fury felt so intense.

            "You betrayed me!" Lexa said to Titus.

            "Hardly. I knew you were too good to die in a way such as this," Titus said. "I thought that once you saw three of our finest warriors lying at your feet, you would come to understand. They are willing to die not for you, Heda, but against you. This is a change you crafted in their hearts," Titus said.

            "I am no longer your pupil!" Lexa challenged him.

            "You will always be my pupil, unless you kill me yourself. My title grants me immunity. I am to protect you and your sacred duty."

            A sound of fighting came distinctly through the halls. Clarke watched Lexa read Titus's face. She shook her head in rage.

            "They sent others, besides whatever you agreed," Lexa said.

            Two men had made their way past the guards. Lexa fought one, and Titus fought the other with his bare hands. The man fell and drew a pistol from his robes. He shot several times, wildly, then Lexa cut his throat. Lexa turned to Clarke. Neither of them were hit.

            "Where did he get a gun?" Clarke said.

            Lexa rushed towards Titus, and Clarke made to follow her on instinct. She thought they were fighting, but Lexa caught him in her arms. He was falling. He had been shot. The sound of fighting brought Clarke back to herself. She leapt the few stairs, grabbed the gun, and rushed out of the room.

            Lexa lay Titus on the floor. Her hands were hot with blood. She remembered distinctly in a memory perfectly preserved over the years how his hands unlocked the refining cages and reached in to take one of her own hands. She was shivering in the cold, and his hand felt hot, as hot as this. She heard the sound of more shots, and then door slamming shut. Clarke rushed back into the room and dropped the empty gun near the stairs.

            "Lexa," Clarke said, "The guards are down. I got the doors shut, but it won't hold for long."

            "They brought others," Titus said. He coughed up blood. "I should have known."

            "How many were there?" Lexa asked.

            "I don’t' know, maybe ten or a dozen," Clarke said. "Maybe more."

            "It doesn’t matter," Titus said, "If they've killed the guard, they'll be too many for the two of you." He grasped Lexa's hand. "Lexa, forgive me. I meant to teach you to be the greatest leader our people have ever known. I could not accept when you surpassed my teachings."

            "You made me too strong to ever restrain me," Lexa said.  

            "I die in shame," Titus said as tears came from his eyes.

            "No. No, teacher," Lexa said. "You die in love."

            The room went quiet, except for the pounding the door, as Titus died in Lexa's arms. Lexa stood and gave his sword to Clarke. She took up both of her own. Warriors rushed into the room. They paused in the doorway. The worst of it was that one of them was carrying a gun. It was Emerson, and Clarke looked stunned by his sudden presence.

            Lexa saw Clarke freeze as any person untrained in war would have. She stepped forward herself in order to try to distract the warriors from this, but she could not distract Emerson. He saw only Clarke. With a instinctive sharpness and speed that took Lexa completely by surprise, Lexa saw in the poised and almost suspended moment it took her to cross the distance to the warriors, that Clarke turned and snatched a serving tray from the table, and Lexa saw a bullet spark as it struck the metal. Clarke charged forward fearlessly and smashed Emerson in the face with the tray. The untrained nature of her response had taken him completely by surprise. Clarke was like a wild animal suddenly threatened with death. So Lexa turned her focus to the fight before her. More were rushing into the room. Titus was right. It was not that there were too many, but that so many of the finest warriors in the Polis stood before her.

            "The hour of death is upon me!" Lexa cried in Trigedasleng.

            The warriors halted, hearing the sacred summons spoken in a fearsome voice. Lexa had called the nine to fight with her that she might be remembered even in death. She would burn bright enough to blind them all if she could before the end. She tore into them. Her only advantage was the small entrance to the room, and their inability to crowd around her in the tight space. She fought with less elegance as she dealt killing blows and took several glancing blows herself. A madness seemed to break loose inside of her, and she fought without fear but with a glee that might have made her reckless. Her body and mind were trained as weapons for so many years that even in so frenzied a state, she held mastery. Blood was on her face, on the walls, and still more enemies moved around her, so still she fought, unrelenting. She threw herself onto three warriors and knew that she must have sustained blows from their weapons. She felt that her leg did not want to work right when she rolled onto her feet after killing these three, so she sprang into another warrior from her good leg and bore her to the ground and cut the foot off another warrior who rushed towards her. Still there were more.

            Shots rang out, and three warriors near Lexa dropped. She turned to see that Clarke had taken her eyes off Emerson, and he tackled her to the ground. Lexa's body made a sound like the roar of a tornado passing through a village, and she gained her feet somehow. She bore down the remaining warriors. Finally, the air about her was still.

            Lexa turned to see Clarke and Emerson struggling on the ground. She braced herself on the wall and forced herself to make her way towards Clarke. Clarke's back was to Lexa, and Emerson had the gun in his hand. Clarke had injured his other arm somehow, and she was forcing his gun arm to the ground. He saw Lexa, and he must have realized that Clarke had stopped to save Lexa instead of fighting for herself. He let his arm drop, throwing Clarke off balance for a moment. He fired several shots wildly in Lexa's direction. Clarke used the sudden disruption of their struggle to snatch a knife from above his head and cut his throat. She turned to see Lexa fallen to the ground.

            "No!" Clarke yelled. "Lexa!"

            Lexa found herself on the ground before the steps with bodies all around her. Her breath came in ragged gasps. There was a moment as Clarke came to her in which Lexa's mind registered the damage done to her body before the actual sensation of pain came over her. It came over her like a crushing weight. Her trained body responded by attempting to breath into it. Even as her mind tried to shift and move around the lines of pain cutting through her body, down to the quick, Lexa's mind ran over the fight they had just had. Clarke had grabbed the nearest cloth from a table and come to kneel at Lexa's side.

            "I should not have come at you so openly. I should have trusted you to take him yourself," Lexa said.

            "Lexa, shut up!" Clarke said desperately, winded herself. "Here. Help me put pressure on the wound in the front."

            She placed Lexa's hands on the cloth. She went and grabbed another and leaned around to Lexa's back. The pressure made the pain flare, and Lexa grimaced and made a stifled sound. Clarke was silent, looking.  

            "It's no so bad," she said, leaning back, "The exit wound is usually worse."

            They both held the pressure and waited for a moment that felt incredibly long. Clarke looked over Lexa's other wounds. She studied Lexa's face in the stillness.

            "The point is to survive," Clarke said, "And we've done that. Not all fighting can be as elegant as poetry."

            "I made a mistake," Lexa said.

            Clarke obviously wanted to get mad at this, but she was distracted by peeking under the compress to check the wound. She pressed it back to wait longer, and Lexa could read in her expression that the blood had slowed but was still flowing. Clarke leaned around to get a quick look in the back. When she was back around, she had softened already. She put her hand to Lexa's face.

            "All the world is after us," Clarke said. "You can't be perfectly defended all the time."

            "I imagined we were safe here, and that's always a wrong assumption to make, even when it turns out to have been true," Lexa said.

            "Shhh," Clarke said.

            Clarke flashed a hard look at Lexa. She leaned in to kiss Lexa quietly, taking her by surprise. Lexa felt her own brows soften in astonishment as the pleasure of their kiss seemed enough to suppress her pain noticeably for a brief instant.

            "If you never let your guard down, then where would we be?" Clarke said.

            Clarke gave Lexa a soft, suggestive look and smiled. Lexa laughed and grimaced as the tension in her stomach caused a flare of pain. Clarke pressed a hand to her chest and waited, then she checked the bleeding again.

            "I'm gonna' lean you back," Clarke said and moved Lexa carefully and positioned her so that edge of the step held the compress against her back.

            Sounds were coming from down the hall, and Clarke got the gun from the ground and a sword, not knowing how many bullets were left. She saw Aden and the nightbloods coming down the hallway. She dropped the sword and rushed forward to get their help.


	3. The Commander Will Rise

            The nightbloods had reestablished Lexa's guard, drawing together those still loyal to her. Clarke found it remarkable to watch them. They were tireless. Clarke thought some of them might have wanted to ascend to Heda's throne, but she saw no sign of this in any of them. They fought to preserve Lexa as if she were their sacred trust. Clarke had to love them, because they shared her love for Lexa.

            Clarke had found Lexa tireless and anxious to heal. She could not persuade her to rest, which would have aided this more than anything. They were trapped inside the Polis. She anticipated ruin and seemed cast into a grim despair.

            News came to them that all the other clan leaders had challenged Lexa on the same day, save King Roan. Clarke sat in a stunned silence. She looked to Lexa for her lead, but she seemed only stoic. She had seen this coming.

            "How long do you have to respond?" Clarke asked her.

            "One cycle of the moon from when they issued their challenges," Lexa said.

            She was quiet for hours after this. Clarke went and talked to the nightbloods. All of them were hoping to be chosen as Lexa's champion, but they assumed she would choose Aden.

            "Who will you choose to fight for you?" Clarke asked Lexa openly.

            "None of them are ready," Lexa said.

            "Who then?" Clarke asked.

            Lexa's look told her that she would choose no one.

            "Lexa, you can't fight injured," Clarke said.

            "I can fight. I can't win," Lexa said. "I can choose which challenge to accept, and I could issue a challenge to King Roan today."

            "That's crazy," Clarke said.

            "How many sane choices have we been offered this year?" Lexa teased.

            Her face was serene and grave. She reminded Clarke of a work of iron herself. She seemed hard and resolved.

            "Lexa, you cannot go and fight with the intent to die," Clarke said.

            "I can if it's my only option. I have less than a month to heal. Even so, I won't be able to make my way through all the clan leaders. Only three days can pass between the duels, since they were issued on the same day. I won't be healed enough to make it through."

            "That's insane!"

            "These are our ways, Clarke."

            Clarke was growing desperately upset with Lexa. She came near to her. She tried to get Lexa to look at her. Her expression was terrifyingly blank.

            "Lexa, your dream of peace will die with you. If you don't value your life enough to find a way out of this, then, please, think of that."

            Lexa stood with a profound grimace. She moved away from Clarke, away from her line of sight. She went to the windows to look over the capital.

            "I have to do the best I can as their leader, even so weak as this. I can either choose the weakest of the clan leaders so that Aden can challenge him within a few years. Or I can choose the strongest and hope she takes the nightbloods for her own pupils, rather than targeting them."

            "Lexa, the alliance you have wrought is magnificent. It's the most beautiful thing that anyone who has lived on this earth has created in years, probably in a century or more."

"Beautiful things die, Clarke!" Lexa said desperate rush of anger.

            "Enough!" Clarke said.

            She leaned into the windowsill in pain. She turned and saw Clarke's eyes hardened in a defiant anger. She came towards, Lexa. She took Lexa's arm over the gauntlet she was wearing and made her look at her face. Lexa gripped her jaw and stared at her, unmoved.

            "Lexa, everything dies. But life either accumulates or declines, and our job is to live and die fighting to make sure it's on the rise.

            "All my life, people told me that this entire earth had died. We were a people waiting for the supplies in our station to run out, knowing that each day we lived, we drew away the resources that sustained us. Still, I could see that no one had accepted that, not really. And everyday, I drew some small part of the earth. I wanted to keep it alive in my mind, because that's all I had the power to do, all I had the power to save or to make. Now that I'm here, I won't let a day pass when I don't create some small part of an earth that I want to live in, some tiny piece of the dream I wanted to live back then in a cold and empty world.

            "I've done terrible things. Lexa, we both have. You know what it's like. I've become so much of what I hate that there were moments when I couldn't recognize any good in myself or see that my own dreams were worth saving. But it's the decisions we make everyday, our constancy that defines us and that will shape the world we want to live in."

            Lexa felt her jaw tensing so hard it made a sound in her ears. She wanted to say that sweeping acts of destruction were easy, while bringing forth life was endless toil. She felt her heart burning, wanting to consume everything, anything near her. She felt herself to be on fire. Let the whole world burn, she thought. Let this long fight end at last. She could not stop fighting until all of this found its end. The suffering took too long. Even in that moment, her heart rebelled. Clarke's body, her entire being seemed almost luminous to Lexa's sight in that moment, some intuitive sense of how brightly she burned, how unpolluted the life force inside her was even in this moment. For all the world to burn, it would have to take Clarke with it. If she was to burn, she would have to set Clarke aflame, as well. They were too near.

            Clarke was touching Lexa's hand. Lexa tried to clear her vision and look at Clarke's expression. Clarke's brows knitted, and she looked closely at Lexa's skin on her face and neck. She touched her there.

            "You're burning up," Clarke said to herself even more than Lexa. "Here. Come."

            She got Lexa to sit down. She went to find water. Lexa sat with her head held in her hands. Her body ached. She could not even distinguish the borders of the pain in her body. Clarke knelt down in front of her.

            "Please, fight for us," Clarke said.

            "The Commander will rise. Our stories, our spirits live on," Lexa said.

            "We will see our Commander rise," someone said from over Clarke's shoulder.

            It was Aden. He was wearing a riding cloak with a deep hood. He was still dirty from some journey. He brought a vial to Clarke. The antibiotics were from Arkadia. He must have found his way in and gotten a message to Abby somehow. His face was grim, and he looked exhausted to Clarke.

            "We want to follow you, Commander Lexa, greatest Commander of the ten," Aden said to Lexa.

            He reached out and touched her hand once as if she were sacred. Then he left the room, no doubt on some other errand to secure Lexa's rule. Clarke opened the packet and unsealed the syringe. She injected the antibiotics into Lexa's arm.

            "How fast will this work?" Lexa asked.

            "Not fast enough for you to fight any duels," Clarke said.

            The medicine made Lexa grow faint. Clarke got Lexa to lie down. The antibiotics were fast acting and would linger in a person's system for days. Clarke brought water, and Lexa drank it obediently. She then went and asked the nightbloods to bring some food, some broth if they could find any. She came back to Lexa's side and took her hand.

            "You look relieved," Lexa said.

            "I am," Clarke said.

            "This doesn't change anything, Clarke."

            "It gives us a chance to figure out a plan."

            "My people want a strong Commander. I can't be that for them."

            "You can heal."

            "Not overnight. And our ways can change, but not overnight."

            "Then we give them what they actually want. You have twenty-eight days. They want to see you bring Arkadia under your power. So we ride out, as if for war. That will assuage them for the time being. They think Arkadian fortifications and our technology are so strong that we can only be subdued if you wipe us out. My people are barricading themselves and lifting themselves up over the lives of everyone outside, just like the Mountain People did. They think a power is rising the you can't subdue, and they're afraid, as they should be. So we prove them wrong."

            "How, Clarke?" Lexa said in a voice that said she was listening but devoid of any felt sense of hope.

            "We make a show of it, a spectacle, a story for the people, like Titus would have. All we have to do is breach the gate to even the odds. I can get us help from inside."

            "I can't challenge Pike to fair combat in public and claim his people under my rule. That's the only outcome that would appease my people. I can't even ride the distance to Arkadia," Lexa said.  

            "You don't need to ride. Those of us who love you will gladly carry you the way. And yes, you can challenge Pike. You can choose a champion. King Roan will fight for you. The stories will still call it your victory. You'll be the one who drew together thirteen clans, even when at your weakest," Clarke said.

            "Why would Pike take up the offer? If we breach the walls, there will be a bloodbath," Lexa said.

            "We can take the risk. My people are divided, I know it. Some of them won't fight. They may even fight on our side. There is no way that Pike's policies are holding out without anyone beginning to see they made a mistake," Clarke said.

            "And if you're wrong?" Lexa asked.

            "It's a chance I'm willing to take," Clarke said.


	4. Justice Deserved

            They got lucky with the weather when they day came. Clarke and Lexa were encamped with the newly restored guard beyond the line of sight and fire from the walls of Arkadia. King Roan and his guard were with them. Clarke went every morning to look for Octavia's sign, a cluster of red flowers tucked into a seam in the wall. That morning she had found them. They must have anticipated some opportunity to try for Pike office and open the gates. They sat in their saddles now and waited, fortunate that the weather was mild. The waiting was strange for horses and warriors both, tiring. Lexa's body must have ached, but she sat silent and unmoving. Clarke knew that many of them would die on their way through the gates, and she did not know what they would find inside. This was their part, however, so they waited.

            Inside, Octavia and Indra found the halls to Pike's office far more empty than they anticipated. Some terrible commotion had broken out the night before. They were hiding near the walls, and they knew that something had happened. She left the signal for Clarke to prepare. They had made their way into the tunnel in the wall, and that morning Pike had announced that everyone was to gather in the courtyard before the gates. She knew this was their chance. What she did not know was who they would have to kill to take it.

            They hid in an unlocked room as three guards passed. When they neared the doors, Octavia glanced around the edge of a curve in the hallway. Two men were standing guard, one she recognized as Allan Rivel and the other a younger man named Peter. Peter was young. They were both new to the guard. Octavia shared a long look with Indra, who did not know what to expect from her. She gave Indra a grave nod, and they slipped out into the hallway. Rivel managed to fire a burst of shots, but he missed, then both men were dead at their feet.

            They took a pry bar to the panels of the wall next to the door. They got the outer panel free and hacked through the wiring and structural cords inside. They were working on the inside panel, nearly through the wall. Octavia heard a voice come from behind her and froze.

            "Stop, Octavia," Bellamy said.

            As she turned to face her brother, she caught Indra's look. Indra had already given up on her, she could see. She turned to find Bellamy with a rifle at his shoulder. He looked exhausted, and his face was bruised. He held himself rigid, injured in some fight. Octavia gritted her jaw.

            "You'll have to kill me to stop me, Bellamy," she said.

            "Oh, yeah?" Bellamy said and turned the gun towards Indra. "And what about your friend there?"

            Octavia handed Indra the pry bar and stepped in front of her.

            "Keep going," she said to Indra.

            She stood between Bellamy's line of fire and Indra as she began to work at the wall. She could not cover the distance to him in time and merely waited. She thought Bellamy would shoot her in the leg and wondered why he hesitated. Sounds came from behind them, and she saw Bellamy's eyes flash with an almost wild desperation. He would have to come close enough to risk fighting hand-to-hand if he did not want to fire.

            "Bell' listen to me," Octavia said, "Pike has lost control."

            "Oh, yeah? And you're in control? You killed two of our people."

            "I know!" Octavia said. "If I don't do this, we'll all be dead within a year. The barricade will hold out, and we have no supplies. We're boxed in Bellamy. I'm going to open the gates and let the others in before it's too late."

            "Clarke, you mean? She set this up, didn't she?" Bellamy said.

            "Clarke is not our enemy," Octavia said.

            "She's a Grounder," Bellamy said.

            "So am I," Octavia said. "You're my brother. And I won't fight you. But I'll be dead if you don't accept who I am and the people I love now. Your people are out to kill us . They think we're nothing. I've made my decision. Now you have to decide."

            Three other guards were rounding the corner. Bellamy's face was even more desperate as he turned to see them.

            "Stand down!" Bellamy yelled at them.

            "Grounders!" one of them cried.

            "Stand down!" Bellamy barked.

            They were ignoring him and training their guns on Octavia and Indra. Seeing that they would not stop, Bellamy sprang into action as if by sheer instinct. He dropped his rifle, shoved the barrel of one man's gun back and up into his face, and kicked another. Octavia had already rushed forward and tossed a knife into the arm of the third man to keep him from getting Bellamy into his line of fire. They got all three men down, and their rifles away.

            Octavia turned, half expecting Bellamy to spring at her. He was looking at the fallen men. His face seemed grim as if he expected them all to be dead by morning. He turned his face to Octavia and seemed to reach some resolve.

            "I have the code to the door," he said.

            Octavia nearly wept at this, and she smiled and put her hand roughly to his shoulder. They moved towards the door. Indra gave Bellamy a slight smile as he approached.

            The moment the gates began to open, Clarke and Lexa's band of warriors rode out across the fields. Clarke's heart felt as desperate as the hoof beats around her. She expected machine gun fire to come raining down on them. They heard nothing until they neared the gates. Then only a couple of rifles sounded. They poured into the courtyard and found everyone gathered there. Multiple voices were yelling orders. Clarke added her voice to this, calling for everyone to stand down.

            Lexa and Roan both had spears trained on Pike, and he had a pistol pointed at Lexa. Weapons were raised on both sides, spears and machine guns poised. Clarke quickly assessed what was happening. Kane was on public display. His hands were in fists and shaking visibly. Pike was holding a pistol, standing in front of him, and the people were gathered around to witness. They had disrupted an execution. Her eyes searched the crowd. She felt terrified not to find Abby there, and another wave of fear came through her like a wash of cold water running down her from inside when Raven was nowhere to be seen either.

            "Everyone stop. No one needs to die today," Clarke said.

            "Clarke!" Monte's voice yelled.  

            He pushed through the crowd from the back and came out into the open. His hands were bloody. Clarke felt a wave of panic for Octavia. Monte took a quick glance at everything that was happening. His mother, Hannah, was standing near Pike with a machine gun trained on Lexa's people. Monte rushed in front of her gun with his hands held out.

            "Don't! Stop!" Monte yelled.

            His gesture seemed to awaken a few of the others, and they stepped in between the line of fire, facing their own people, as well. Clarke saw Jaha shake his head as if waking from some kind of a dream. He looked about him, and she thought a cloud seemed to be drawn back from his eyes and face.

            "You're going to kill your own son, Hannah?" Jaha said.

            Everyone turned to him. Clarke saw several others seeming to come to the same way he had. She wondered what on earth was going on. She turned to scan the crowd and saw Raven peeking out at the crowd from behind a building.

            "I think it's time we put our weapons down," Jaha said.

            "We'll be slaughtered!" Pike said.

            "Grounders don't fear death," Jaha said. "If they wanted us dead, they wouldn't weigh the cost in the lives of their own. They would focus only on the victory. It's a single-minded way of surviving, hard and determined, ruthless," Jaha said.

            "You may not mind if all your people die, but I do!" Pike said. "You've been telling these people that death is not the end, and that's the dogma of a man leading his people passively to a slaughter."

            "Passively?" Jaha said. "No, I think that's giving me too much credit. I've led us to slaughter actively, as well – rationally. I sacrificed my own son, remember? I tried to sacrifice myself, several times. We've crossed every line, made every impossible choice, all for the sake of survival. Some live at the expense of others, isn't that the rationale? We even let those who would give themselves willing to save us go forward and take all our places, let them die so we might live. Where would we be now if they were the ones who got to live and were standing here this day? If we weren't all cowards or so single-minded in our thinking that we considered only outcomes and ourselves instruments of a kind.

            "And here we are, still, on the edge of ruin. It's time to stop. We need to step back and take a hard look at what it takes to survive in this new world. All the old lessons, they clearly aren't enough," Jaha said.

            "Mom," Monte said, "Mom, please. You've been through as much as anyone. People will listen to you. Tell them it's gone to far. Think of what you've done already."

            "Son," Hannah said.

            "I took Jasper to medical, while you were all out here waiting to watch a man die for helping save people! I used supplies. I'll be next, if you don't stop this!" Monte said.

            "Hannah, tell your son to move out of the way," Pike said.

            "Mom, please," Monte said. "If you love me, please, tell everyone it's time to stop. Let Clarke take charge. Trust her! She kept us all alive!"

            Hannah was overwhelmed, deciding.

            "I would give anything," Jaha said to Hannah, "To be in your place again. My son petitioning me on Clarke's behalf…"

            Jaha broke down weeping and fell to one knee. He did not seem to care about any of the weapons around him. He was consumed by thoughts greater and heavier than those of death, and it affected everyone around him. Monte was weeping, as well, his bloodied hands still held out in front of his mother's gun.

            Every person was watching as Hannah began to cry and slowly lowered her weapon. Monte went towards her, and Pike snatched the machine gun from her hand. Bellamy had come up without anyone noticing, and he was rushing forward even before Pike had made a his move. He tackled the gun, and Pike punched him in the face, nearly knocking him unconscious. He held on as shots fired into the ground. Others all tried to subdue Pike, but he was too strong. Bellamy held onto the gun and got it free of Pike's hand. Pike got a knife out of his belt and stood ready to fight others. On the ground, Bellamy had been shot as he struggled for the gun. He held his side and grimaced audibly. Pike turned towards him, wanting to recover the gun, but Monte, Hannah, Jaha, and others were dragging Bellamy and the gun away from Pike.

            "Enough!" Lexa said. "Do you really want to fight your own people? Or those of us you call your enemies?"

            "I never wanted anything but what was best for my people! To protect them from the likes of you and your kind!" Pike said.

            "You consider yourself the leader of these people?" Lexa said to Pike.

            "Yes!" Pike said.

            Both Kane and Jaha spoke up in protest. Lexa held up her hand to still Kane, and he responded at once.   Jaha seeing this, went quiet, as well.

            "On what grounds do you claim this right?" Lexa said.

            "I was chosen," Pike said, "In a free election. Those are our people's ways. We make our own future."

            Clarke expected Lexa to issue the challenge. Lexa stared at Pike for a long, silent moment. She seemed to look over the camp at all the others. She seemed almost to be listening. The stillness and gravity of her bearing made her stand out as the most solid figure among all of them, the truest leader.

            "No one needs to die today," Lexa said. "I came to offer you our customs. Today, instead, I offer you this – the chance to find a new way for yourselves of your own accord. If you will hold a free election, I will let you decide your own way. If you choose war with me and my people, then so be it. We are not afraid of war or death.

            "You chose this man as your leader for his strength. You were too fearful and too few to question his vision. He told you that you could suffer no more loss if you would embrace absolute ruthlessness against others. In desperation, you allowed yourselves to trust such a leader. The blood of those who would have risked their own lives to defend yours is on your hands. You have much to atone for in the days to come.

            "Do you have enough unity among you to accept my offer? Or shall our reckoning be made in blood?"

            Hannah stepped away from Monte. She held up her hand, two fingers together. She lifted her voice up over the crowd.

            "All in unity, raise the sign of consent," Hannah said.

            Jaha had just borrowed a knife and cut the straps holding Kane's wrists. They were among the first to raise their hands, along with Monte and Raven. Bellamy raised his from the ground, where he lay with two others pressing a cloth to his wound. The others all responded until everyone except Pike had raised their hands.

            "Then in two weeks, when a peace has settled on this place, we will see your election held. And then we will leave this place no matter the outcome. Any acts of aggression against my people in that time will be seen as acts of war. If they cannot be suppressed, then they will be met," Lexa said.

            Clarke jumped down from her horse and came to Bellamy's side. He grasped her hand, and they smiled at one another. She reached to grasp him by the back of the neck and pressed their foreheads together for a moment. The people were beginning to clear the courtyard. She asked the others to raise him up, and they made their way to medical.

            Both Bellamy and Jasper were patched up in the coming hours. While they worked, the others explained to Clarke what happened in the days before. Pike had decided to kill the Grounder prisoners. Kane caught wind of it somehow. He and Abby got Lincoln, Monte, and Raven to help break them out. Kane was creating a distraction. The others, besides Monte and Raven, were discovered at the last moment.

            Lincoln fought eight armed guards. He had an advantage against their guns in the tight halls, and he knew them and who was strongest. He overcame Bellamy first. Lincoln was finally injured enough that he fell. Jasper came upon the fight. Knowing nothing of their plans, he guessed what was happening immediately. He attacked the guards like a man possessed, unable to withstand the idea of more people being slaughtered while they were helpless. He managed to kill several guards, and Lincoln fought even though he was injured. Jasper had gone nearly mad, and he tried to shoot Bellamy from the ground, but Lincoln fell onto him and stopped him in time. Jasper took guns and demanded that the others leave him behind. So they gathered up Lincoln, and Abby led them through the hidden passage in the walls, while Jasper lay down suppressing fire and caused a real distraction until he was finally shot down.

            Pike refused to allow any medical supplies to be used on Jasper. He lay in the locked cells in terrible pain from his gunshot wounds and the beating he received afterwards on the ground, while Pike gathered intelligence and got enough on Kane to sentence him to death. The execution was meant to be public, to make him an example, and Pike became too single-minded in his focus to keep control over the camp, giving Octavia and Indra their opportunity. Monte went and overrode the panels on Jasper's cell and into medical and tended to Jasper as best he could, while the others were all gathered outside. He knew it would not change anything, but he had to try.

            They now waited anxiously for news of Abby, Lincoln, and the Grounders who escaped. Lexa feared the worst, as her party had been among those forming the barricade for five days, and no one had come to them on this matter. She sent out inquiries at once. A small party of her people arrived with their heads hung in shame. They confessed to having broken Lexa's command to kill any Arkadians who passed the walls. Abby was alive, and she was tending to Lincoln and the others. Lexa brought the party who had come to confess to having broken her laws to their feet with her own hands and thanked them. They were invited into her guard having risked their lives to maintain the spirit of her law rather than merely obeying her orders. Octavia went to find Lincoln at once.

            Abby came to medical a few hours later. She and Clarke embraced, and Clarke though she might faint for the exhaustion that came along with her sudden relief. Abby and Raven explained the last piece of the strange puzzle that had ordered the events of the day. In the days before, even under the influence of the AI, Raven had been secretly studying how the chips worked, just to know, she said. She had identified that the filaments the chips used to interface with the nervous system were each made of a different material and each served a different purpose. One of these interfered with the emotional part of the brain, and Raven found a way to send an electrical pulse through her own chip to disable this filament. She came to her right self when she did and recognized what had been happening to her and the others.

            She came to Abby in secret. Abby was shocked that Raven had taken such a risk, since she could easily have disabled her chip entirely and been suffering again from intense pain. After Raven explained everything to Abby, Abby developed a theory that the particular filament in the chips might respond to a medical treatment, as well. She isolated a form of nano-technology used to treat a once rampant disorder that would cause growths to form on the thyroid and pituitary glands and leave sufferers with intense hormonal imbalances. She tested this on Jasper's unused chip. She had quietly treated Jaha and the others, knowing that the treatment would not harm them either way. They expected the effects to be slow-coming but to work.

            When everything fell apart and Abby disappeared, Raven came up with a plan to send out an electrical pulse to try and boost the signal, weaken the filaments, and perhaps allow the medical treatment to erode the filaments faster. She hoped to bring Jaha and some of the others back to themselves and to cause a disruption in the courtyard. She did not know what else to do. She had worked on it all night and succeeded just as Clarke and Lexa breached the gates. She had come to see if it had worked when Clarke first caught sight of her.

            Clarke found herself astonished that night when they all finally came to a prolonged time of rest. Two quiet weeks passed, the strangest they had spent on earth to Clarke's mind. She would walk among her people during the day and through the open gates. At night, she would come to Lexa's tent, where they discovered how to make love far more gently in order not to hurt Lexa's injuries.

            Clarke voted with the others on election day. Kane, Jaha, and Abby all refused to run. Kane was determined to volunteer as a diplomat in the Polis and the other twelve nations. Jaha appointed himself the task of helping his people heal from their grief and trauma. Abby would hear of nothing except medical work. Clarke wanted Bellamy to run, but he shocked her by adamantly refusing. The others wanted Clarke to run, but she would not offer herself unless no one else could be found. Monte's mother finally agreed to run. She was chosen in a landslide against Pike.

            Clarke saw Hannah walking with Lexa and several of the other leaders during the coming days. Hannah's first decision was to join them with the twelve clans openly and rebuild a full council to distribute her own power more evenly. Octavia and Lincoln were both chosen, and Lincoln held the title of an Ambassador in Arkadia, just as Clarke was Ambassador in the Polis. Hannah chose the other council members carefully. She seemed very aware of her own past actions and wanted new laws and processes to be crafted to keep their people from committing atrocities even in times of crisis.

            The new council offered to allow Lexa to decide what would happen to Pike. Regardless of what they determined to be their new definition of war crimes, Pike would no doubt have broken them. Lexa came alone to speak to Pike in his cell.

            "You're to be made subject to my justice," Lexa told him.

            "And what might that be?" Pike said.

            He was proud still, and Lexa watched him closely.

            "Our laws would mandate either execution or exile," Lexa said. "I thought would give you the choice yourself."

            "I choose death, then," Pike said.

            "That seems a strange choice to make," Lexa baited him slightly.

            "I don't want to live without my people," Pike said.

            He walked away from her and sat. She thought in silence for a long time. Pike seemed quietly distressed by her silence and how she lingered watching him.

            "You have nothing more to say to the person who controls your fate?" Lexa asked.

            "You and I have nothing more to discuss," Pike said. "You offered me a choice, and I've made it."

            "You could ask me to let you die as you truly are," Lexa said.

            Pike seemed provoked by this, as she had intended. He came to look at her through the glass.

            "Oh?" Pike said, "And what's that?"

            "As a warrior," Lexa said.

            She had Pike's interest, she could see.

            "I could fight a Grounder, you mean?" Pike said.

            "You could. My own champion," Lexa said.

            "And if I win?" Pike said.

            "You'd be free," Lexa said. "Those are our ways."

            "The word of Grounder is worth nothing to me," Pike said. "But if you offer me such a chance, I'll take it."

            Lexa considered him for a long moment, and he kept her gaze.

            "They made us this way, you know," Lexa said.

            "What way?" Pike said.

            "Warriors, worshippers of death," Lexa said, "Our teachers – they were the ones who made us this way. They said that it's what we were, what was inside us. But there were many other things besides that might have been brought out of us. You and I are not what we believe ourselves to be."

            Pike was quiet for a long moment. He seemed to be seeing Lexa for the first time. He nodded gravely.

            "I'm sure that's true," Pike said and went and sat heavily.

            When the challenges of the other clan leaders were all withdrawn, Lexa offered Pike a chance to fight her champion, Aden. He refused to fight a young boy in a public display. Lexa relinquished his fate to Hannah with the stipulation that he be confined within the walls of Arkadia. She asked her to keep him from holding power until her people were defended against ideas like his.

            The only other orders she gave, along with Hannah, before she left Arkadia were for Indra and Bellamy. She assigned them to develop new training regimes for both their peoples that could create warriors who could think for themselves, honor the law, and not merely follow orders. And she took nothing with her when she left except what came willingly. In private, she fell to her knees in gratitude when she learned for certain that part of what came away with her would be Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to organize the mistakes being made in regards to the racial politics of The 100. I am sorry if I missed anything important, and please feel free to let me know in the comments or by message. Here is the list of elements I gathered together before I wrote this chapter. 
> 
> The Mess:  
> Pike as neo-colonizer and Kane as white savior  
> Jaha as religious dogmatic zealot and Abby as scientific reason  
> Raven as broken and tech-religious puppet  
> Lincoln as side character with no rise in power / status  
> Bellamy's character falling apart morally, backlash in his development
> 
> I didn't include John Murphy and Emori (or her brother, who may or may not be gone), since they weren't included in considerations of the racial politics of the show. However, I do care about their story for other meaningful reasons. So let's just say that the two of them became open anarchists and moved around as nomads causing a reasonable amount of trouble and occasionally saving people, because why the hell not.


End file.
